It was the end of the fifth day, grueling and agonizing. Ben was once again filing slowly along in a single file formation around the pit and toward the cellblock with the rest of the prisoners. He had been working hard everyday, not as hard as the pickers, but hard enough to bring a continual sweat to his brow throughout the freezing fourteen-hour work shift. The loading, pushing the cart, and unloading the crystals at the bottom of the pit was tiring and his muscles had become sore. But it wasn't the work that caused him to feel tired and weak. In fact, he knew, as an athlete, that this kind of work would firm him up and put him in top condition for any athletic event. No, it wasn't the work. It was the lack of food. He was actually burning more calories than he was consuming with the ten measly food pellets they gave him everyday.
Shuffling along, he started to step over a rock, but instead kicked it out of the way at the last second. As he watched it roll toward the prison wall he noticed out of the corner of his eye two guards near the front gate. As he continued to watch, they walked through the lock and made their way toward the prisoners.
When the guards were close enough, one of them called out, "Ben Hillar, step out of formation."
Ben walked out of the ragged line of prisoners and came to a stop. It was the same corporeal who had talked to him two days ago, and with him was a woman with Lieutenant’s stripes on her sleeve.
"Hello Ben," said the corporeal quietly. "This is Sharpie."
She looked closely at Ben's face. "Jobbe said you were a prisoner, but I didn't believe it—not until now." She paused. "It is you, isn't it?"
Ben started to say something sarcastic, but thought better of it and said, "If you mean am I Ben Hillar the fourth sword of the Galactic Games, then yes, it's me."
Sharpie whistled softly under her breath and then asked, "How did you get thrown into this rat hole? And don't tell me you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I want a few more details."
Ben shrugged in obvious frustration and then said, "I came to Ar with the Galaef on an archaeological expedition. We . . . "
Sharpie's eyes started blinking rapidly. "The Galaef of the Galactic Federation?" she asked in shocked amazement.
"Yeah, and if you think that's interesting, then the rest of story is going to bedazzle your brain."
Sharpie didn't comment, except with a look of wonder, so Ben continued. "We found an ancient computer complex beneath the park in Newusa. Without having done the dating I can only guess it was built before the Nuclear Holocaust on Earth, which means it's probably somewhere in the neighborhood of seven hundred years old. Because of the myths surrounding the Aeolian Master I had theorized and written a paper that there would be some such complex somewhere on Ar and that in this complex we would find a man in suspended animation. Naturally, because of our inability to suspend a person more than forty years, I assumed this man would be dead."
"Naturally," said Sharpie.
"As it turned out, we did find a man in a suspended animation chamber, but he wasn't dead, and the time indicator on the readout was more than six hundred years."
"Damn!" exclaimed Jobbe.
Sharpie punched Jobbe's huge shoulder with her doubled up fist.
Jobbe gave her a startled look and then a look of recollection.
Sharpie said, "You know how I feel about swearing."
Jobbe frowned, "Sorry sir. It just sort of slipped out."
Sharpie looked at Ben. "Continue," she ordered.
"It is undoubtedly one of the greatest archaeological discoveries ever made, and there is enough work to keep fifty archaeologists and other scientists busy for the next five years. And finding a man who is still alive after all that time goes beyond incredible,” Ben paused. He knew he couldn't stay in the cold night air much longer. "But I digress," he said. "The fact is, all the while, and unbeknownst to me and the Galaef, Thorne, the Galaef's second in command was planning to depose his throne and take over the Galactic Empire. And six days ago he did just that. In Hurd's office he made his move by dispatching the Galaef's personal bodyguards and stunning the Galaef.
Now, this is where it turns out I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Since I was present when Thorne made his move, and since Hurd didn't like me because I refused to write a slanted history about his reign in Newusa, he decided to get rid of me, so first it was the run, and now it’s prison, along with the Galaef."
"It can't be," said Jobbe.
"No one can depose the Galaef," said Sharpie almost in the form of a question.
"That's what we're taught, but Thorne has found a way."
Sharpie thought for a moment. "I knew we had a VIP prisoner in confinement, but I would have never guessed it was the Galaef."
"Yeah, and Em's here, too." The blank look on Sharpie's face prompted him to add, "That's what we call the man we found in the suspended animation chamber."
"By the Zorgs," said Jobbe.
"So he's here?" asked Sharpie.
"Yeah, he's the tall silent picker. He's so silent, you'll never hear him say anything. I think he never fully recovered from the extended sleep. If only we could have gotten him into a laboratory with modern medical equipment, we might have been able to bring him back. But now I feel it may be too late."
Sharpie wasn't referring to Em. "The Galaef is here?" she asked again. There was no doubt that Ben had astounded her. "Why is he still alive?"
"From what I heard between Thorne and Hurd there seems to be a problem with his plan. He needs to keep the Galaef alive until he can correct it."
Sharpie looked out into space for a moment and then shook her head bringing her back from the world of speculation. "If this man takes over, it could become another rotten dictatorship like Hurd's, except on a much larger scale. I'm going to have to give some thought to everything you've told us, but meanwhile you hang in there. I'm going to talk to the Captain, and we'll get you on light duty with a hot meal everyday."
She and Jobbe turned and walked away.
Ben started toward the open door on the near end of the cellblock. The guard who had waited while Sharpie talked to him had held the door open and was now waving Ben to hurry. Ben picked up his pace a little and when he passed through the doorway he started down the long cement corridor toward the metal staircase.
Just as he reached the top step he heard that familiar mental click which was becoming more frequent as of late. Hello Roqford, said Ben before Roqford could say anything.
Hello Ben. I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with Sharpie, and I was just wondering, if a person or personsss were to help the Galaef escape and regain his throne would he give that someone or thossse someonesss a Full Pardon?
I've never thought about it, said Ben, but now that you ask, I'm sure he would.
Does that mean he might or that he definitely would?
For you, Roqford, I guarantee he would.
Thank you, said Roqford, and he clicked off.
Chapter Forty-Eight